Cathexis
by That's LEON
Summary: Cloud falls out of the sky and into Traverse Town. Leon is not amused. Things happen. Eventual CLC.
1. 0 Enter Cloud

**Cathexis  
**_Toothpaste Addict_

* * *

**--**

**0 - Enter Cloud**

--

Leon does an uncharacteristic doubletake when he sees the figure being hauled into the hotel room. The first thing that really registers is the shock of golden hair against the sickeningly familiar monotony of bloodstained clothes; the second, coming in quick succession, is an offhand thought equating messy spikes to a chocobo. For the briefest moment, as Cid dumps the unconscious man on a bed, the brunet sees someone else in the motionless stranger.

The sensation of his heart being wrung in his chest catches him offguard and he hesitates for a moment, surprised at himself. But then his eyes wall over again and he retreats behind the familiar comfort of stoicism, demeanor betraying nothing as he watches Aerith heal the man who's making a valiant effort to bleed to death in the makeshift infirmary. Cid is already gone.

Yuffie darts back from the pile of first aid supplies in the corner, haphazardly tossing a roll of bandages in his general direction. Leon helps his companions ease the blond out of his blood-drenched clothes and begins to wrap every wound within reach, his motions purposeful but never hurried.

The room glows green for a moment as another healing spell is cast, and the tension lifts as the man under their hands starts breathing normally again. Aerith sits back, watching carefully for evidence of any status ailments she might've missed. Yuffie slows a little in splinting an arm. Leon tries to find it in him to speak, the words caught behind his lips for so long that it's a surprise that no one beats him to it.

"So what's his story?" He asks finally.

"Fell from the sky just now," Aerith offers. "Alone, as far as we can tell, but Cid's looking for others."

If another world collapsed, more than one person would end up in Traverse Town. He knows that for a fact. But--assuming another world _hasn't_ been lost to the heartless--that means the spiky-haired man could be from anywhere. So is it a good omen, Leon wonders, or a bad one?

Gunmetal eyes following the newcomer's face cautiously, he finds himself wishing vainly--and very secretly--that it could be a familiar one. His expressionless gaze lingers on the left side of the man's face for several moments before he stands, dismissing the intrusive emotions that are beginning to creep into his mind.

"Oh, and he had this!" Yuffie informs him hastily, producing an enormous sword out of thin air. "I confiscated it." She grins widely, with a great deal of self-satisfaction.

Turning to leave, Leon nods in the smallest sign of approval. "Hold on to that. Aerith?"

"I'll keep an eye on him," she assures, taking a seat next to the bed. "I'll let you know when he wakes up."

There's a monosyllable of acknowledgement before he vanishes through the door.

--

* * *

**A/N: **Any guesses as to which chocobo head Cloud reminds him of? XD (...how many other chocobo heads do we know?)

This starts somewhere during KHI (once I get a replay in, I'll tell you guys where exactly XD). I wanted to write them starting off as strangers, unlike in my arc where they knew each other as kids. Will eventually be CLC, rating might go up.


	2. Introductions

--

**1 - Introductions**

--

"He's awake."

Those are the words that direct Leon to the suite at the far end of the hall. A young boy grimaces in his sleep in one of the cots lining the wall; in another, a woman lies in silence, staring grimly at the ceiling. But it's the blond swordsman on the bed in the far corner that draws his gaze. The man looks like a statue, sitting perfectly still, lifeless eyes downcast. He raises them in an almost eerie gesture, the rest of him still unmoving. Their eyes meet across the room, equally unreadable and calculating, and tension growls to life between them.

It's then that Leon notices something he somehow neglected to the night the stranger was brought in: a tall, regal wing folded neatly behind the man's back. "Who are you and whose side are you on?" he asks bluntly as he crosses the room, his hand never leaving Lionheart's hilt.

"You're in charge around here?"

"Answer the question."

The blond man's eyes flicker over the other with ill-concealed annoyance, but he yields. "I'm Cloud."

"Leon," the brunet replies, with a similar expression of cautious distaste. He wonders faintly if that's some sort of alias, but he doesn't bother to entertain the thought. It's none of his business, anyway.

"I guess I'm supposed to thank you?" The man's voice falls in the same octave as his own, and it seems like that should make it easier on the ears than Yuffie's high-pitched chattering, but it doesn't. The indifferent monotone has an effect on him akin to that of nails on a chalkboard, and his patience is waning quickly.

"Thank Aerith, she's the one who took care of you," the brunet retorts, his voice chilled. It's always awkward for him to accept words of gratitude, but the lack thereof is far from refreshing. It's aggravating, really, that the man seems so ungrateful that they've saved his life. And Hyne, would it kill him to smile a bit? The irony of the thought is lost on him.

"Hn." The cool dismissal on Cloud's tongue mirrors the other man's. It's silent for a few moments before he decides to make a request. "I want my sword back."

"We don't have it," Leon lies, recalling the bandaged broadsword that's stashed under Yuffie's bed. A weapon like that is no joke, and the blond's physique definitely suggests that he's been trained to use it. He doesn't need to think twice to withhold the sword. He's not letting his guard down that easily.

Despite his initial impression when the younger man was dragged in--a memory that refuses to stop mocking him--the brunet doesn't have any illusions about him. He doesn't know Cloud, and he definitely doesn't trust him. And, if he really was before, he's no longer entertaining any parallels between the man before him and the boy he was originally reminded of.

Cloud might be a chocobo head, but that's the only thing about him that's even vaguely reminiscent of Zell. His eyes are icy and apathetic, a stark contrast to the glimmer of perpetual joy Leon would expect from that shade of blue. There's nothing sincere or giving in those eyes, nothing human. He has the same alluring lips but there's no hint of laughter on them; they're fixed into a permanent scowl, much like his own. There's nothing remotely likable about the man. He's just _there_, a figure of solid rock that's a waste of the air he's breathing.

If anything, Cloud reminds him of... himself. Leon's lip curls in disgust.

"I think you do."

The blond is eyeing him and he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "...Whatever."

Cloud bristles, words dying in his throat as Leon cocks an eyebrow in a look of utter disinterest in whatever it is he has to say. Turning on his heel before the other can protest, the brunet strolls out of the room without a word. He's halfway down the hall when he realizes he still doesn't know whose side Cloud is on, much less where the swordsman is from or how he ended up in Traverse Town. He shoots a glare back at the door, very aware that he does _not_ want to go back in there.

He'll ask later, he decides, teeth grinding unconsciously as he stalks down the hall.

--

* * *

**A/N: **Wheee. By the way, what do you guys think of flashbacks? There's one I want to throw eventually, but I'm contemplating moar, so... :0 lemme know.


	3. Matters of Trust

--  
**2 - Matters of Trust  
--**

"Leon." Cloud's voice is a snarl as he spits the other man's name across the dark street. They're behind the item shop, and he's on his way back to the hotel after a walk around town. "What the hell are you doing?"

"My job," Leon bites back as he slides down the wall he's been perched on, tending to a wound from a particularly large heartless he encountered earlier. He ties off the wrapping on his left arm, pulling the gauze with his teeth to tighten the knot. Flexing his hand a couple times to make sure it's secure, he levels his gaze on the other.

"It's your job to tail me?" Cloud asks sarcastically, falling into a defensive stance. He's unarmed and the other man has some sort of sword/revolver thing, but he wouldn't put it past Leon to attack him as it is. He doesn't know what the brunet is hiding behind his perpetually expressionless facade, but he's willing to bet it's nothing giving or virtuous.

"It's my job to keep peace in the city." The brunet's metallic eyes narrow; the muted starlight glints off of them in the same way it does off of Griever and Lionheart, sharp and unforgiving.

"And I'm wreaking more havoc than the heartless?" He really doesn't understand what Leon's problem is. There are all sorts of creatures swarming the third district and here he is, diligently keeping an eye on an unarmed man trying to get some fresh air. Maybe he's just a dick.

Leon gives a derisive growl under his breath that does nothing to dismiss the notion. "I don't trust you." His words are blunt, unhindered by consideration or regret.

Cloud scoffs, not once thinking to withhold the venom from his voice. "Feeling's mutual." Leon's colorless eyes are burning into his own in a way that makes him want to punch something, and when the older man shrugs it off with an irreverent _whatever_, he can't help but entertain thoughts of beating the brunet to a bloody pulp. If he had the buster...

"I'm not even armed," he points out, wondering what kind of damage, exactly, the other man expects him to do without a weapon.

"Convince me you're not dangerous, and I'll work on that."

So that's the idea, is it?

"Not dangerous, hm?" He knows his eyes are banked with dislike, but the look in Leon's is closer to disappointment, and it makes his skin crawl. He's used to being scorned, not... whatever the hell this is. "Yeah, right."

Leon leans his gunblade against the wall, unamused and obviously ill at ease as he steps away from it. "Tell me where you're from."

It's ironic, Cloud notes with more than a little annoyance, that he feels cornered. Leon literally has his back to a wall and they're both unarmed now, so he technically has the upper hand. But for some reason, it still feels like the brunet is within his rights calling all the shots. He knows from experience how to pick his battles, and he's sure that Leon isn't worth his time.

But for some reason, he can't back down.

There's an open street behind him but he can't just turn around and _leave; _it's unthinkable to do so, like he'd be admitting defeat. Everything the other man says is a challenge and that's enough to keep him in place.

"I don't remember," he snaps, and it's the truth. He doesn't have a name to go with the few memories he still has of his homeworld. He doesn't need one.

-

_"Mom!" _

_If the word reaches his lips, it's not __distinguishable from the howl that fills the air. His mother is sprawled across the kitchen floor, sinew and bone jutting through flesh, hardwood disappearing under a growing pool of fresh blood. The shadowy forms crouching over her turn, three pairs of amber eyes fixing onto him. Three sable tongues, dripping with tar-like saliva, drag over three pairs of charcoal-coloured lips with a thick, wet noise, and paralysis shudders through him. Time stops as they lunge, three pairs of claws reaching for his heart._

_They hit the far wall with three identical, keening screams, and time catches up with him. His hands quiver, white-knuckled on the sides of the chair that he reflexively swung at his assailants; the realization that the action probably saved his life causes his heart to hammer harder in his ribcage. _

_He doesn't trust himself to get so lucky next time._

_-_

"Why you're here, then." Leon demands.

"I don't know." The words that come next tear past his lips against his will and hurl themselves at the other man. "My world blew up; I chased some freak halfway across the universe, died and went to hell, and then got shit out in your town one day. Is that what you want to know?" He expects silence. Expects the disgust in Leon's eyes to deepen at his outburst. He expects everything but the monosyllabic response he receives.

"Yes."

His expression softens for a moment as he searches the other man's eyes for something he can understand: mockery, anger, skepticism, hatred, even fear. But none of those emotions are present. He's met by an abrupt wall of expressionless gray, and for a fleeting moment, he thinks there might actually be something painfully human underneath. "What about you?" He asks, words betraying a tentative but genuine interest in what Leon might be hiding.

"None of your business."

...And by interest, he means unadulterated loathing. The words hang in the air as Cloud's eyebrows furrow, hands balling into fists. He mentally beats himself to death, wondering why the hell he didn't just say that when Leon asked him. "Fine."

"Whatever."

_-_

_He jumps when he hears the front door slam open, heavy footfall approaching quickly, and he hurls the chair in the direction of the sound. It breaks through the drywall and a familiar voice sounds in surprise. "Ifrit's balls!"_

_"Zack?" The pounding in his chest begins to subside slowly when his friend comes into view, a massive broadsword strapped to his back. The dark-haired teen closes the distance between them in two quick strides, pulling him into a tight embrace._

_"Fuck, Cloud," he breathes. "I thought I wasn't going to get here in time."_

_"You almost didn't," he admits as the older boy lets him go, gesturing at the dead heartless on the far side of the kitchen. His eyes pass over his mother's corpse and his stomach lurches without warning; he steps away from Zack, barely bracing himself against the wall before he vomits, violently ejecting anything that's in his stomach. He tries to ignore it all--the sickening burn of acid on his tongue, the stench of freed viscera, the overwhelming pity in his friend's eyes--as he staggers over to the sink and rinses his mouth out. He splashes water over his face to camouflage the unsightly tears he feels coming on._

_"We have to leave," Zack is saying.  
_

_Cloud shuts the water off. "And go where?" He asks incredulously, gesturing out the window. The sky is dark despite the fact that it's midday, fire obscuring the house next door from view; the only sign of hope out there is Zack's car, parked haphazardly in his driveway.  
_

_"I don't know," Zack says honestly, "but we can't stay here." Determination flashes in his violet eyes and Cloud feels it from across the room, giving him confidence against all odds. "We'll make a run for Midgar."_

_"Midgar?" He echoes. "You're insane; we'll never make it--"_

_"Do you trust me?" The dark-haired teen's words are abrupt but calm, his voice resolved and unwavering.  
_

_The younger boy raises his eyes to meet the other's, hands quivering at his sides. Zack isn't kidding. __He's going to fight to the bitter end. They're going to run. It's the end of the fucking world, and Zack Fair--of all people--is uncharactaristically composed. At least he picked a good time to grow up, a wry voice in the back of his mind says.__  
_

_Cloud's voice is a hoarse whisper when he manages to speak. "I trust you."_

-

It's late when Cloud returns to his hotel room. He parted ways with Leon in a moody silence over an hour ago, unsure of who really came out on top in their encounter. Maybe it's impossible to determine a winner between adversaries who honestly _don't_ _care_, but he's sure now that neither of them can really boast that.

As he closes the door behind him and flicks the lights on, a slow smirk spreads across his face. Suddenly, it becomes very clear who got one up on whom in the alley, and he can't help but feel a little smug. He has beaten Leon; for today, at least.

The bandaged sword leaning against his bed is a token of his victory.

--

* * *

**A/N: **Now we get Cloud's side of things. XD And a flashback.

This fic is partially a test run to see how rusty I've gotten, and I'm seeing now that it's worse than I thought. This is something I normally would've just kept to myself, so uhm... sorry if it's boring, and feel free to bail out on me.


	4. Don't Be Ridiculous

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**3 - Don't Be Ridiculous**

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_-  
An aerial view of the situation would be spectacular to behold. Balamb's capital is normally a gray expanse from above, roads crisscrossing an intricate layout of skyscrapers and office buildings. Towards the edges of town, colour finally seeps into the picture, the streets becoming littered with houses and shops, marking the transition between the stark grays inside and the grasslands outside._

_But today, there is only black._

_A film has crept from west to east, covering the entire continent in a single, unbroken slate of darkness. The air is rank with the din of chaos as the heartless break down the cars lining the streets and devour the hearts of those within. Their numbers are infinite, their lines stretching to the horizon and broken only by the glow of yellow eyes and the glint of sunlight off armor. Not that he can see them anymore. _

_He's barricaded in a warehouse with a few dozen survivors, breathing hard as he wipes heartless gore off of his gunblade with a rag. He watches the townsfolk fortify the door, not quite possessing the confidence to look away until he's sure it's safe. _

_The boy next to him fidgets, throwing a couple punches at nothing in particular before he slumps against the wall. "I heard shit was going down in Gaia earlier, but... Fuck. Squall, what're we going to do?"_

_"I don't know, Zell." Squall admits, his voice controlled. "We'll hold our ground here, I guess, and try to find out if there's any place we can go."_

_He can hear panic rising in the voices echoing off the bare walls as mothers fail to console, friends have no comfort to offer, and complete strangers bond in the face of fear. He wants to tell them all to shut up, to tell them it's not going to change anything if they sit there and cry about it, but he knows it would be a futile effort. People will lose their composure. People will panic. People will scream, and cry, and deteriorate. But not him. _

_He has to be strong, for all these people who can't be strong for themselves. He has to be calm when no one else is. Has to keep his head on straight and figure out what to do. He has no idea why it has to be him--it shouldn't have to be him, he's just a kid. But none of the adults are coping better than he is; he can feel the fear radiating off of all of them, polluting the air as morale plummets. Someone has to take charge. _

_Zell's hand finds his, fingers lacing through his own, and his scowl unwittingly softens._

_At least he doesn't have to do it alone.  
_-

Leon is alone in the lobby, pouring over a huge book on advanced defense mechanisms, halfway through it with nothing to show for it thus far. He closes his eyes wearily, scrubbing a hand over his face as he reaches the end of yet another page crammed tight with lengthy words that--when it comes down to it--aren't saying anything at all. His goal is to set up some sort of anti-heartless field around the town, but at this rate, it's never going to happen.

The girl who walks into the room pauses and watches him with a look that's between amusement and worry. "Don't hurt yourself."

"..." He glances up at her through his fingers, hand still covering his face, and cocks an eyebrow in his trademark _whatever _face.

Aerith giggles, walking up and dogearing the page he's on before she closes the book. "All this work isn't good for you," she insists firmly, pulling him out of his chair. She smiles warmly when he doesn't protest too much, and continues trying to coax him out of the hotel lobby. "You need to relax sometimes, Leon."

He looks like he's about to gripe but doesn't, following her down the hall with his book in tow.

"I know, I know." Her back is to him, but he's sure the brunette is rolling her eyes as she clicks her tongue. "You'll relax when you're dead, right?"

"Whatever."

Aerith glances back at him, all benevolent smiles, as they step out into the second district. "Just can't have a normal conversation, can you?" She pauses, considering something. "Don't you ever get lonely?" She's softspoken as always, but the words strike him like kick in the throat.

Squall takes that blow and stands speechless; Leon gives a grunt of incredulous laughter. "Don't be ridiculous."

-  
_"Squall."_

_"Hm?"_

_Zell's lips meet his own and he returns the kiss without hesitation. He lets the older boy taste the fear and uncertainty on him, emphasized by the metallic flavor of blood on his tongue. He doesn't want to be responsible for all these people; there's no way he can save them all. He doesn't want their lives in his hands, but Zell is the only one who can know. After all, what kind of fearless leader would he be if he let all of them see how reluctant he is to be in charge? Raising a hand, he traces the tattoo on the other's face from memory, his touch an unspoken confession._

_( I'm scared._

_I'm so fucking scared. )_

_And he knows he's not the only one who's scared. He pulls the other boy closer, deepening the kiss with every thread of affection in him. The reassurances are empty because he doesn't really know if it will be okay, and he doesn't know if they'll make it out of here alive, but thankfully Zell doesn't think that far ahead. The tattooed boy relaxes against him, fingers raking through his chocolate-colored hair with growing ease. His heart swells at the knowledge that he's responsible for the way the blond's tension drains so easily, and he feels himself smile--that rare gesture that's only for Zell--into the kiss. Their lips part with a soft sound before they meld together again._

_Thank Hyne he doesn't have to do it alone.  
-_

--

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**A/N: **Sorry for the lack of Cleon interaction OTL; What I originally had for this chapter got bumped out by the flashback. On that note, I'm a huge Squell fan. Sorry if it's not your cup of tea. If nothing else, though, you're getting some BL while Cloud and Leon are still hating on each other. If it wasn't obvious enough, the CLC is kind of far off... XD

**Thanks to everyone who has shown support for Cathexis thus far; your reviews make my day and inspire me to slave harder. **And special major omega extra redundant thanks to Scision and RazorBladeFae1992 who sit with me on AIM for hours and hours on end while I bitch about all my insecurities. Love you guys :D


	5. Shelling

**--**

**4 - Shelling**

--

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Ah. I forgot who I was talking to," Aerith says, a little grin on her features. She takes Leon by the arm and steers him in the direction of the first district, ignoring his half-hearted excuses about work. "C'mon, Ice Princess, you're taking a lunch break."

She's a sweet girl, really, but... _Ice Princess_? Sometimes she's as bad as Yuffie, Leon thinks with a groan. Maybe worse because he can't quite seem to say no to her, whereas he has no qualms telling off the kunoichi, who's more like an annoying little sister. Whatever, he tells himself; he needs lunch, anyway. The least he can do is make it look like he has a choice in the matter.

As they approach the small café in the first district that serves the only food in Traverse Town, he catches sight of a spiky-haired figure slumped at one of the tables and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is what he gets for going out, isn't it? An encounter with his favourite person alive. Hoo-fucking-ray.

Before he can stop her, Aerith is at Cloud's side, greeting him cheerily. "Mind if I sit?" She asks, as she takes a seat at his table. "What're you up to?"

"I was going to get something to eat," the blond says, pointedly ignoring Leon, who's standing a few yards away and pointedly ignoring him back, "but apparently there's no exchange between Gil and Munny." He's been mooching, however unwilling, off of the others until now, and he's obviously annoyed that this is going to be a prolonged condition.

"We had that problem when we first got here," Aerith tells him with a nod. "Don't worry, though, the heartless drop a lot of munny." She smiles, gesturing at the lunch menu posted on the wall. It lists simple things: burgers, hot dogs, subs, soups, and such. "We'll feed you for today. Leon's treat."

The two men wince in unison.

"I'll pass," Cloud says.

"My treat, then," Aerith insists, so sweetly that neither man can protest.

"Fine."

"All right!" She claps her hands together. "What do you want?"

"Hotdog, I guess." Cloud says after a moment, picking the cheapest thing he sees. His gaze snaps onto Leon when the other man gives him an odd look. "What?" There's no response. "What's wrong with hot dogs?" he demands, eyes narrowing.

"Nothing."

"No, enlighten me. What the hell is wrong with hot dogs?"

"_Nothing_."

"Then quit being an ass," the blond snaps, slumping back in his chair with an indignant huff.

"Look who's talking," Leon mutters, still standing away from them with his arms crossed, glaring hard at something near the foot of the table.

"Leon, _sit_," Aerith orders; Cloud watches with a smirk when the brunet obeys like a well-trained dog. "And be nice."

"Not my fault if he's a jerk," Leon says shortly, now addressing the unlit candle in the middle of the table, still talking about the blond like he's not actually there. All his life he's let everything be his fault, but something about the other man just _begs _to be blamed. Something about Cloud makes him want to say 'screw the world' and blow up the wall he's been living behind; and the first thing he wants to do as a free man is point the finger and throw the depreciating weight on his shoulders at Cloud.

The younger man scoffs. "_I'm_ a jerk? You were a dick to me from day one."

Or maybe kick him in the balls, Leon thinks, the train of thought continuing as the other speaks. That sounds good, too. He accepts the other's words lazily, lifting a shoulder in a half-assed shrug. Turning his eyes up to meet the the blond's, he offers his next statement like justification for his actions. "Yeah? Well maybe you make a shitty first impression."

One of Cloud's eyebrows shoots up. "That's the worst apology I've ever heard," he says flatly.

"It wasn't an apology." He's talking to the candle again.

"What did I ever do to you, huh?" The blond spits out, like someone's going to stop him if he doesn't speak quickly enough. His breath catches in his throat when the other man's gray eyes meet his own again, this time all business. They graze over him, examining him, analyzing everything they see, and he feels the need to duck just a little further into his cape.

At length, the brunet looks away dismissively. "...Your haircut is shit," he says.

"_What?_"

"You heard me. You look like a chocobo."

"You've been a complete jackass to me because you don't like my hair." Cloud would be gaping if he wasn't more dignified. When there's no response but a nonchalant shrug, he stands abruptly, chair teetering dangerously like it's going to fall over. "Grow the fuck up, Leon."

"After you, Cloud."

The blond stalks off, muttering under his breath, and Leon turns to Aerith, who's staring at him in shock. And she has every reason to; he's just strung together more words in two minutes than she's heard him say in all the years she's known him. She's never known him to say anything superfluous, or participate in anything close to banter, nor has she seen him actually get angry about something. All in all, she has no idea what to make of it.

"Hate that guy," Leon growls. In conclusion, just in case it isn't clear yet, restate thesis. Content that he's gotten his point across, he sits back, eyeing Cloud's empty chair.

Aerith gives him a knowing smile, shoulders quivering with suppressed laughter. "Call it what you want," she says, watching Cloud disappear around the corner, "but I've never seen you get so worked up about someone."

"...Excuse me?"

"You made fun of his _hair_." She grins at the memory. "If that's not new, I don't know what is."

"Whatever," he says, averting his eyes with an internal groan. He's never going to live this down, not when he's been playing the resident glacier for so long. He can still retreat behind his wall, sure, but now Aerith--the _one person_ who's always left him alone about it--has proof that there really is something more to Balamb's lion than his icy exterior. Something that's gone slightly insane from being caged for as long as it has been. Something that's been locked up for nine years, that wouldn't have been a big deal if it hadn't been left to fester for so long. And more importantly, something that wasn't at risk of being uncovered--something he had under complete control--until Cloud Strife showed up. The lion has been shelled.

With a resigned sigh, he glances in the general direction in which the blond went. _Not bad, Cloud, _he allows grudgingly.

_Not bad._

--

* * *

**A/N: **Honestly, I wrote this entire chapter just for the chocobo comment, which I enjoy. The rest of this chapter displeases me. Just a thought, but if I was involved in this conversation, it would've gone more like: "Your hair, it's shitty." "LIKE YOUR DICK."

ANYWAY. I'm leaving to go backpacking, whoot!! Unfortunately, that means I won't have access to a comp for two weeks. So no updates from me for a while :c

BYE, GUYS!! -hugs-


	6. Sleeping Lion

**--**

**5 - Sleeping Lion**

--

There's a soft tapping at his door and Cloud jerks it open, buster in hand. His expression softens slightly when he sees Aerith, the only person here that he's taken a liking to. Yuffie is terribly annoying, Cid is civil but loud, and Leon... he doesn't want to go there.

But Aerith is soft-spoken and genuine. And she always knows when to back off, a skill that he whole-heartedly appreciates. "Are you busy?" She asks, looking so out of place as she hovers in the hallway. Somehow, she's reminiscent of a flower that's been left anonymously on his doorstep, blindingly pure against the backdrop of grungy walls and flickering lights.

"Not really," he admits. Ever since they moved him out of the infirmary, he hasn't really had much to do.

Her viridian eyes light up. "In that case, would you like to escort me to the item shop?"

He considers it for a moment then consents, retrieving his key card off of the bedside table and pocketing it. The familiar weight of the buster is comforting on his back as it sits nestled against his concealed wing, and he's glad to have it back as he joins the younger girl in the hall.

"Normally I'd ask Leon," she says, as they wind down a dimly lit staircase and into the lobby, "but he's sleeping right now."

"Sleeping?" Cloud echoes, eyebrow cocked, trying to remember what time it was the last time he checked. It can't be later than ten, he decides, and Leon doesn't seem like the type to sleep early. Actually, the swordsman thinks wryly, he doesn't seem the type to sleep at all when he can help it. The brunet is so high strung, Cloud can't imagine him lying down until he literally collapses; even he's noticed that Leon is dead on his feet half the time.

He can relate, though.

"He kind of passed out," Aerith corrects, pretty features wilting with concern for the older man. But then they quirk up again quickly into a playful grin, "...And then I took the liberty of casting Sleep on him."

"You're kidding," Cloud says, something akin to impressed amusement in his voice. There's more to this girl than meets the eye, and he's almost curious to see how much. While it doesn't interest him in the same way it'd interest most men, he's certainly enjoying it.

"You should do that more often," Aerith informs him, her eyes wide with admiration.

"...Huh?"

"You should smile more," she says, giggling softly when her addressee is clearly caught off guard by her comment. "It suits you."

Despite the truth of her words—or maybe in spite of it—the swordsman forces his lips back into a respectably stoic line, the curve of amusement straightening out almost instantly. To anyone else, he'd be intimidating; she can see that very clearly. But to her, he's simply intriguing—a puzzle waiting to be solved. She's normally good at reading people but he's cryptic even by her standards—just like Leon—and she wonders how similar they really are.

When they step outside, they're immediately accosted by heartless. It's not quite late enough for the district to be swarming yet, but there are enough that she wouldn't be able to take them herself. Cloud darts in front of her, a blur of red and silver as his cape billows behind him and he wields his impossibly large sword with ease. Without so much as a grunt of exertion, he hurls the broadsword through a cluster of heartless and returns it to his back in a single, continuous motion. His eyes, glowing slightly in the darkness, scan the area before he seems content that it's safe and he gestures for the girl behind him to follow.

Aerith sits back and observes during the fights that follow on their way to the item shop and back, healing Cloud when he needs it and taking note of his skill. She's never used a sword in her life but she's watched Leon fight for several years and she's developed a critical eye. It doesn't make her an expert, of course, but as she watches, she draws the tentative conclusion that the two are almost an equal match.

Cloud is less efficient, the difference more than understandable due to the ridiculous size of his weapon. Nevertheless, she's sure he's still on the uppermost tier in terms of ability, and she wonders where he learned to fight. His blows are deadly, forceful but precise, impossibly fast but perfectly controlled. She wonders what Leon would think if he could see this, the blond dancing his way effortlessly through the masses of heartless.

Would he be impressed? Probably. Intimidated? Possibly. Would he let on? Definitely not. He'd just look on with his usual placid expression, Aerith thinks, smiling at the thought.

"You two should spar," she says at one point, when the area is cleared for the time being, as she helps Cloud collect the munny from the ground and stores it in her basket.

"What?"

"Leon. You should spar with him. You'd like him if you go to know him, you know." When the blond gives a grunt of disbelieving laughter, she insists, "Leon is a good guy. He just has a lot of pent up frustration."

"I'm sure."

"He does," Aerith tells him, undeterred. "Nine years worth of it."

Cloud gives her a look of complete disbelief. "So he took it out on my _hair_?" It's been a few days, but the memory of the thoroughly wounding encounter is still fresh.

"It threw him off," she says cautiously. She knows better than to trespass on a lion's territory, but wolves aren't harmless, either. It's best to tread lightly, she concludes. "I think you reminded him of someone, when he was least expecting it."

"Someone he really hates?" The blond asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," Aerith's voice is quiet, and she hesitates visibly before correcting him. "Someone he misses, I think."

Cloud doesn't have time to ponder the meaning of those words before he's thrown back into battle, sword impaling an unfortunate large body straight through the gut as he gestures for the girl to back away. Twisting the buster sword, he thrusts sideways, cutting through the corpse and taking down the two shadows at its side. He hauls the broadsword back up as he turns his attention on the next wave, fixing his grip on the hilt of the sword before lunging forward.

_-_

_The spiky-haired blond is stunning when he fights._

_The usual boyish charm is gone, replaced by an animal fluidity that shows through in every move he makes. His punches are fast and powerful as he fells the creatures around him with a single, mind-numbing blow each. Clumsy and maybe a little foolish in the day-to-day, the man he becomes in battle is that boy's antithesis. His every motion is calculated, flawlessly anticipating his partner's attacks as they fight back to back. There's nothing extraneous in his style, all the energy in his body funneling straight into the arc of his fists through the air. No weapons, no hesitation, nothing between him and the raw heat of battle._

_He's just __**fighting**__, with everything that he is._

_He makes it look so easy—fun, even—as his knuckles send each of his opponents hurling straight into oblivion. Sweat forms in beads along his skin, making his tattoo glisten in the sunlight, but he's still smiling. Beyond a doubt, he's _made_ to do this, and in that moment it's obvious: if there's anyone who can take the apocalypse head on, it's Zell._

_He presses forward, neck-deep in heartless but undeterred by the sheer number of his enemies. Squall follows behind him, retreating slowly as he clears the semi-circle of Zell's blind spot with sweeping blows from his gunblade. They're advancing down the abandoned street fighting their way through the mass of shadowy creatures and toward a building in the distance, the warehouse somewhere far behind them. _

_-_

"Thanks for walking me to the store and back," Aerith says brightly, as they stand outside her room. "Want to come in and have a drink?"

"...Sure."

She smiles like he's just made her day, again, and opens the door, stepping inside and flicking on the lights. "Make yourself at home," she says, gesturing him in as she hangs up her jacket and sets her basket of magic ingredients on a small table.

Cloud follows her in cautiously, closing the door behind him and putting the chain lock into place out of habit. Lifting the sword off of his back, he leans it against the wall and steps into the light. His eyes scan the room, cleaner and somehow... brighter than his own.

The walls are covered in the same, vaguely-patterned wallpaper, but lacking the cracks and stains that mar his own. The carpet looks like it's been washed, the rickety furniture polished, and it's obvious that Aerith has put a lot of effort into fixing the place up. The comforter on the bed even looks home made, he notes, and the drapes—

Wait.

His attention snaps back to the bed, eyes narrowing when he recognizes the man sleeping on it. Leon is lying with his gunblade next to him, perfectly still and silent, and in a position that Cloud recognizes immediately. He's halfway between being on his side and on his stomach, cradling his right arm protectively beneath him.

Cloud knows the logic behind covering the dominant arm in sleep. In the event of a surprise attack, it's vital for a swordsman to protect it so he can fight back. Sleeping with the sword arm unshielded is synonymous with a forfeit life. Seeing Leon adhering to that law even when it's relatively safe makes him subconsciously tie the brunet to the brutality of life in the underworld, and the other man's hostility suddenly seems more permissible.

As a civilian, Leon might just be ass, but as a warrior, he's fully justified in his wariness. For a short moment, Cloud feels the faintest sense of solidarity with the other man.

"Beer?"

Cloud's eyes sweep back to the girl in front of him and he nods shortly. She reaches into a small fridge under the table and produces a chilled can, holding it out for him.

"Wouldn't have pegged you for a drinker," the blond says, eyebrow raised as he opens the can. The seal breaks with a clean, crisp noise and he takes a gulp of the thirst-quenching liquid within.

"Oh, I'm not!" She blushes a little, looking taken aback. "These are Leon's."

_...And what's Leon's beer doing in your room? _Cloud wonders distantly.

Aerith seems to take that look for skepticism. "Self-medication for the anxiety," she recites with a little laugh, but her eyes are sad. And hopeful, the blond man realizes.

It's obvious that she cares a lot for Leon's well-being, and Cloud can't help but wonder what, exactly, she wants _him_ to do about it. Before he can ask, however, she excuses herself quickly and vanishes into what must be the bathroom.

He stands alone for a few moments, silently completing his survey of the room before Leon snags his attention again. An odd feeling of cautious interest piquing him, he approaches the sleeping man. He pauses a few feet away, watching with an almost lupine curiosity—a little skittish that he might get caught, but wanting to know all the same.

Leon doesn't seem so bad when the loathing isn't actively curling off of him in tangible tendrils, when he's not scowling at anything that moves. And Aerith is so fond of him, and she's a good girl, so he must have _some_ redeeming qualities... right?

Cloud edges his way to an armchair near the bed with his beer, watching Leon out of the corner of his eye. He nearly jumps when the other man suddenly speaks.

"...'m sorry." It's mumbled but coherent, and Cloud snaps around to face Leon, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when the brunet appears to still be asleep.

"Don't—I can't—don't. No, please, no. I can't..." the older man mutters urgently, the scar between his eyes contorting as his eyebrows draw together in distress. "Hyne, please, no... Zell..."

The blond man hesitates, glancing back in the direction of the closed bathroom door. He doesn't want to witness whatever it is he's witnessing, but he doesn't want to wake the brunet up either, and he's pretty sure it's a gross violation of Leon's privacy either way. He wishes that Aerith would hurry up, but there's no sign of her returning.

Making up his mind, he reaches out to shake the other man's shoulder. If that doesn't wake him up he'll just... leave, he decides lamely. He secures a tentative grip on rough fabric of the brunet's jacket and gives him a gentle shove, retracting the hand hastily when nothing happens. His breath catches in his throat when Leon's fingers clamp around his wrist in midair, startling him.

The brunet's eyes snap open, their gazes locking at an unprecedented proximity, and for a single, fleeting moment he sees something so empty—something so broken and so terribly _familiar—_that his heart clenches in his chest. But then Leon blinks and there's nothing except the usual vague irritation.

"Leon?" he asks cautiously, not recognizing the man he saw for a split second, as he twists his arm out of the other's bone-crushing grip.

"_Cloud_?" Leon sounds unpleasantly surprised, eyes narrowing into a glare. He scrubs a hand across his face as he sits up, one hand already on Lionheart's hilt. "What are you doing here?" He asks, in a voice that's halfway between exasperation and impatience.

"Aerith invited me in for a beer," Cloud says, lifting the can from his lap to show Leon. He smears the condensed water across it with his palm, wiping the hand on his pants as he takes a swig. It's still satisfactorily cold, he notes. He smirks a little as he adds, "...after I walked her down to the item shop." Leon's gunmetal eyes snap onto his own, and realizes that they'll never again be intimidating in quite the same way. They're more haunting than anything now, a shudder playing on his nerves as he recalls that brief look of complete despair.

Of course, that doesn't stop him from feeling smug. He knows Leon doesn't trust him—they've been through this before—and he knows it will feel like defeat for the brunet to know that he left someone he cares about at Cloud's mercy. He can practically see how Leon pictures him, some sort of mangy wolf that's biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

But the brunet only sighs and stands. Pacing across the floor, he retrieves a beer from the fridge and turns it over in his hands tentatively. "She says I've misjudged you," he says, his back to the other.

To anyone else the voice might sound edgy, but Cloud hears something else. Just like he suddenly sees the vulnerability behind the glare, he can hear it behind the other's voice. It doesn't really change how he feels about the other man, but knowing he has the upper hand puts him at ease and lets him observe in a more neutral light.

"She says you're just frustrated," Cloud supplies. "Says I caught you off guard, or something."

Leon knocks back the entire can in a single gulp as the younger man is speaking, and grabs another. "Whatever," he retorts, voice covered almost entirely by the sound of the can opening. They fall into a silence that's awkward but not awkward at the same time, broken only by the sound of both men drinking.

"You were talking in your sleep," Cloud says finally, when his can is empty and ceases to entertain him.

"...What?"

The air seems to freeze around him as he sets the can on the bedside table, a shiver flickering across his skin at the other's frigid voice. "You said you were sorry, and 'I can't' or something. Nightmare?" He inquires, as casually as he can. As soon as he does, a barrier seems to go down between them, as subtly as if Leon had suddenly towed in a brick wall from outside and planting it directly in front of himself.

"I don't dream," the brunet says, so vehemently that Cloud can't help but wonder what those nightmares are about.

The tension hovers in the air between them and for the first time, he doesn't fight it. He lets the feelings radiating off of Leon wash over him and it's not long before they die away, fading before he can determine what they are, exactly. Right about when he senses that it would be safe to speak again, the door clicks open and Aerith emerges from the bathroom in a different dress, her hair redone.

"Had to freshen up," she says brightly, to Cloud, before turning to the other man. "Sleep well?"

"Sort of."

"Nightmares?"

"...Reportedly," Leon allows, grudgingly.

"Zell again?" Aerith questions innocently, causing the older man to flinch visibly.

"I'm going back to my room," he says, already at the door in a few quick strides.

"Nonsense, we have company!" She chides playfully, but Leon isn't humoring her anymore.

"Goodnight, Aerith," he says firmly, opening the door to leave. He pauses in the doorway, hesitating for a few moments before he adds without looking back, "Later, Cloud." And with that, Leon disappears, no doubt headed for his room and a night of fitful sleep.

The blond reflects briefly on his own debilitating nightmares, and wonders how Leon's compare. "...Who's Zell?" he questions, long after the other has gone, recalling the name from earlier.

Aerith sighs, disappointed eyes set on the closed door. "That's something you'll have to ask Leon," she says quietly, turning her gaze away with a tired frown.

The silence that follows is decidedly awkward. With Leon it almost seems... right not to talk, because he can't think of anything to say that's not (maybe unnecessarily) caustic, and he doesn't want to let it escalate into something where he'll lose his composure. He's sick of embarrassing himself and letting the brunet return the favor every time they cross paths.

With Leon, it was awkward because they're both awkward people, but the silence itself was almost welcome. With Aerith, it doesn't work that way. So they engage in small talk, carefully avoiding Leon as a topic of conversation, until Cloud finds an appropriate out.

As the swordsman retreats to his own room—to the nightmares that he knows will come faithfully—he wonders, faintly, what Aerith meant to achieve by having him encounter a sleeping Leon. He recalls the expectant look in her eyes, feeling distinctly like he's disappointed her even though he doesn't know what it is that she wants from him.

With a puzzled scowl, he wonders what she means to achieve at all.

--

* * *

**A/N: **Tired as fuck so I'll proofread this tomorrow. Excuse any phail for now, orz.

I'M BACK 8D; /obvious (for the uninformed, I was backpacking in Isle Royale.)

I was hiking about 8-10 miles a day, and spent the vast majority of my downtime inhaling food and chilling with my cousin. Long story short, not a lot of time to write. But I did manage a chapter of Cathexis, at least, which you see here :D

My biggest goal this year was to encounter a wolf. I'm really bummed out that it didn't happen (–angst, angst–), but I did run into two moose on the trail. And lots of otters/foxes/hares/snakes/etc, of course.

...I also had some really trippy dreams. Crossovers between FF7, 8, 10, KH, South Park, Lord of the Rings, and Interview with the Vampire. XD Also a Cleon dream and a Squell dream. Delicious.

ANYWAY. What were you guys up to while I was gone? C8


	7. Swords, Lies, and Videotape

--

**6 - ****Swords, Lies, and Videotape**

--

Fuck, but Cloud is _good_ at this.

"Told you." The strain is audible in the blond's voice despite his best efforts to hide it, his lips quivering slightly around the words, "...more than you can handle."

Leon finds himself pushed dangerously close to his limits, noises of exertion barely restrained in his throat every time they collide with force. It's been too long, he tells himself, as Cloud slams mercilessly into him and a growl tears past his lips. The adrenaline spilling into his veins is intoxicating, the blaze in Cloud's turquoise eyes a promise of more to come--a promise he knows he'll hold the younger man to. Hair disheveled, breathing ragged, and dripping sweat, he wonders why they haven't done this before.

Probably something to do with the fact that they didn't exactly hit it off at first, he thinks wryly, although it's not like they've made amends. That wasn't exactly hatred, and this isn't exactly redress, so he's not sure how it all works out. Either way, they're going to have to start doing this more often. Fuck, but sparring is fun.

Sunlight glares off of his gunblade as he parries another heavy blow, the shock of it stunning him for a moment as the blond darts out of his reach. But not out of his range, he notes with a smirk, lunging forward. It's indescribable, the sheer magnitude of Cloud's aura as it collides with his own, the man's presence almost threatening to displace him entirely, like there just isn't enough room for the both of them. Indescribable, the way he finds himself suddenly acquainted with the blond on a level that goes far beyond words or blades or humanity.

It's like they're meeting for the first time all over again, this time in an all-consuming, tooth-and-nail fight that echoes along his most primal senses--a fight that is just as much a battle of wills as it is a sword match. Maybe even more.

They introduced themselves in the draw of their blades and the stances they took--both of them defensive and observant, confident but never careless, and so full of challenge. The first of many fleeting hints that they are not so different, before they surged forward in unison to draw first blood. They speak in each attack, each parry, each counter-attack, every clang of metal contributing to the wordless conversation between them. There is no small talk, a philosophy traveling between them across the bridge of their swords every time they meet.

_My life is a small price to pay, to defend this world._

_You can defend nothing if not yourself._

A collision of blades.

_Protect those who cannot fight for themselves._

Lionheart's noble arc through the thick air around them, and the subsequent parry:

_Fend for yourself._

The blows lessen in intensity as the two swordsmen twist around each other in a lethal, unrehearsed dance. Their thoughts mingle as they read each other, the ease of it flickering with the sparks that form and die between them, their motions forming the question they both want answered.

_Why did you take up that sword?_

Cloud slams his sword forward with a growl, Leon meeting his staggering blow with equal force. The answer thrashes wildly, rushing up their blades as they slice through the air. It tears up from somewhere deep inside both of them, raw and thoroughly untamed, spilling like blood between them at the explosive clang of steel on steel.

_It's my fault he's dead._

The truth smolders between them, something that's never seen the light of day, as they stare each other down, each daring the other to slip up. To look away, to falter, to let up the fraction of an inch that will mean surrender.

Leon stands his ground as Cloud pushes the weight of the Buster against him, the younger man's gaze slamming against his own with the same overwhelming force that his sword possesses. He has known from the beginning, on an instinctive level, that the blond is a match for him--that was the knowledge that had put him so ill at ease, the knowledge that still keeps him on edge when the other is near--but experiencing it first hand is another thing entirely.

Their regrets claw at each other, nine years of hell grappling on the ground between them as their locked gazes war in silence. Their most hideous memories surface between them and shatter on the cold cement, the cascade of negative energy continuing as they match each other's fears and uncertainties glare for glare.

Cloud's arms are starting to tremble from the weight of his sword as he struggles to maintain the pressure on his end. Gritting his teeth, he shoves forward with all his strength, causing the brunet to lose his footing and stagger back. Both men hesitate for the briefest moment--a moment that would spell death in a real fight--before Cloud takes the opportunity to strike hard and disarm his opponent, Lionheart flying through the air and striking the pavement nearby.

Before he can think, his free arm is twisted behind his back, eyes widening when he realizes that Leon is _fast_, narrowing when he realizes that he's actually given his opponent an insurmountable speed advantage.

"You shouldn't have done that," Leon growls into the younger man's ear, thoroughly satisfied by the way his body tenses as he's caught off guard.

Cloud gives a strangled yell of protest as a leg snags his own and a sharp push between his shoulder blades sends him crashing down, arms pinned behind him as his sword hits the ground and his face becomes acquainted with concrete. He tries to squirm against the other's grip but can't move an inch, the brunet's body holding him firmly in place.

"Checkmate." The older man's voice is harsh, breathing ragged, but he doesn't have to look to know that Leon is smirking.

"I kicked your ass last time," Cloud snaps in return, his words lost as the other man's palm crushes his face against the ground in an oh-so-polite reminder of who's in charge right now.

"Best two out of three, we agreed."

"Fine," he consents, only because he's sure his nose is about to break.

"Round three goes to Leon!" comes the verdict; Yuffie prances into view, reawakening them both to the fact that they are not alone. She waves the camcorder in her hand around enthusiastically, in a motion guaranteed to make anyone who watches the recording nauseous. "You won, you _won_! You're officially better than Cloud, like _way_ better! And I got it all on _tape_!" The frantic waving continues as the men stand and brush themselves off, adjusting belts and clothes.

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation as Cloud buries a hand in his sweat-dampened spikes in a similar gesture. Collecting their weapons off of the ground, Leon slinging his gunblade onto his shoulder as Cloud returns the sword to his back, they trudge away in opposite directions to cool down, to walk off the adrenaline. To get away from Yuffie, who's now gesticulating wildly as she recounts their three fights, complete with exaggerated sound effects.

"...And then he was like, 'OOF,' and I was like, 'oh my _god_, Squall actually _won_!' It was _so_ cool," she finishes, several minutes later, undeterred by the fact that both men have disappeared.

"It was, wasn't it?" says the one person who's been listening, rising to join her ecstatic friend.

"It _was_!" The kunoichi howls, punching a fist into the air, "Come on, Aerith, you've got an evil scheme to execute. Onward!" Grabbing the older girl by the hand, Yuffie drags her back toward the hotel.

--

About a week and a half later, Yuffie decides that the evil scheme was a success.

"Yuffie." Leon's voice is dangerously flat as he approaches her, each of his words accented by the clench of his fist on the wrinkled paper in his hand, "What. did. you. do?"

"I entered a video of you sparring--" she edges away slightly from the paper shoved under her nose "--into a drawing for an, um... all-expenses-paid vacation to the, uh... to Olympus?"

Cloud's eyebrows draw together as he realizes what's going on, a gloved hand reaching out to snatch the letter that Leon is strangling. He scans the text to confirm his suspicions before he thrusts the paper back at the brunet with a disbelieving sigh. His mako eyes are unamused, voice thin as he focuses his attention on the younger girl.

"You entered us into the _Hades Cup_?"

Yuffie grins, a tentatively sheepish grin. "Oh, well, uhm... yeah. You could say it like that."

--

* * *

**A/N: **I lol'd at how many people went batshit that Leon said bye to Cloud. Have I been so terrible that him saying "later" is exciting?

...wait, don't answer that. Of course I have been. That's the whole point of this fic :B

I'd love to spar with them ;;


	8. Unfamiliar

**--**

**7 - Unfamiliar**

--

Cloud has never seen Leon argue.

He has seen Leon bitch; that's something he's been on the receiving end of more than once, and sometime he's not keen on experiencing again. He's seen Leon get riled up, seen the unsettled flicker in his eyes as his lips snap around words that were sometimes hurtful, sometimes ridiculous, sometimes too cryptic to be either. He's seen the faint rise of color in the other man's face, the grit of his teeth and the furrow of his dark eyebrows, the clench of his fists and the venom in his voice.

But this is new.

Leon is still, perfectly composed, an air of silent authority violently smothering everyone in the room as he occupies an armchair in the lobby. He's sitting back casually in silence, feet propped on a coffee table, fingering the fraying fabric of the arm rests as his eyes watch nothing in particular. It's suddenly obvious how much much restrained strength rests behind his calm demeanor and Cloud knows that, quite frankly, being on the receiving end of Leon's attention right now would scare him shitless.

When Leon stills completely and levels an unnervingly expressionless gaze on Yuffie, Cloud realizes that _shitless_ can't do justice to the feelings the brunet can evoke with that look. Even the great ninja Yuffie, whose shit-eating grin never falters, has the decency to look terrified. Tension looms over her and it's all of two seconds before she snaps.

"I swear, I knew it was a bad idea from the start!" she babbles, diving straight into defense mode. "I tried to stop them, but they made me do it! They held me at gunpoint! They said they'd blow me up and kill all of you and I didn't want them to kill you, and--"

Leon cuts her off with a very casual shift in his chair that draws her attention back to him, a subtle reminder that he's not amused. "They held you at gunpoint."

"Uh, well," Yuffie falters, shoots Cloud and Aerith a pleading look. When no one jumps in to save her, she stammers, "Not _literally_, but..." She shrinks into her chair like she expects the brunet to jump up and decapitate her in one fell swoop.

Cloud, observing from the corner, can't help but think that he's almost willing to do it himself. She's so damn _annoying_ that he's getting irritated just listening to her, and he could care less about the Hades Cup. He just wants her to _shut up_, he thinks miserably, as he rubs his temples. Only half mockingly, he tries to psyche himself up to cross the room and plant his boot in her face.

His eyes trail across the coffee table to Leon, who's watching her quietly. The brunet is still but something about his dangerously bored posture creates the impression that he's prowling, circling the girl, toying with the hilt of his ever-present gunblade.

It's so bizarre, Cloud thinks, that this man who's so unnervingly _controlled_, as his regal eyes pass silent and absolute judgment, is the same man who'd participated so willingly in what could only be called bitch fights. It's just...

A little intriguing, he admits grudgingly.

Several long seconds tick by in silence and when Yuffie realizes she's been allowed to keep her head, the stream of utter bullshit continues abruptly. "I swear! I swear, Leon, it would've been _bad_, okay? I had to! They made me enter, too, see?" She waves her own papers in the air frantically. "You think I'd enter this tournament thing out of my own free will?" She risks a nervous little laugh. "I mean seriously. Seriously, right? You think I would?"

"Yes."

Fidgeting rapidly, she tries hastily to change her direction. "Well, what if we make the best of it, huh? What's done is done, right? Can't change it now, can we? I mean, you can just go for a day, flunk out, and come back, and--"

"What Yuffie means is, arguing with her isn't going to solve anything." Aerith finally comes to the rescue, earning a loud sigh of relief from the younger girl. "You need some time off anyway, Leon."

His off-hand glance says, very explicitly: _no, I don't_. Excuses about work hover on his lips, and the younger brunette waves them away.

"Cid and I can handle things around here. You just go and try to enjoy yourself. Please?" The resistance in Leon gunmetal eyes flickers ever so slightly at her plea, and Aerith continues, "Like Yuffie said, you can get yourselves disqualified if you really want, but we could use the prize money... and who knows?" Her lips quirk up into a smile, the gesture illuminating her entire presence. "You might actually have, you know, _fun_."

Yuffie snorts.

Leon shoots her an annoyed look before turning expressionless eyes back on Aerith. "If I didn't know better, I'd say this was all your idea."

"Me?" She echoes, the picture of innocence as she cocks her head and holds a hand to her chest, gesturing at herself. Because, really, why would she ever try something sneaky when she can blatantly charm Leon into anything?

The scarred man shakes his head, apparently thinking along the same lines. It doesn't seem like a particularly Yuffie-esque scheme, although the younger girl is obviously involved somehow, but... seriously, Aerith? _Aerith_?

"Aerith."

"Hm?"

"This world better still be here when I get back."

--

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry if you were expecting the Hades Cup right away. That was the original plan, but... things happened. Like a Reno cameo XD And then things got moved around, split up in different places, etc. But after this, they'll be in Olympus for a few chapters, although I actually probably won't go into much detail about the tournament itself (-sweatdrop-). Anyway, shameless plug time:

--

**IF YOU ****ARE**** A DEVIANTART MEMBER, please consider joining the new, better CloudxLeon club!**

**cleoncrusade. deviantart. com**  
(minus the spaces, of course)

--

I (GunbladeMassacre) am the co-founder, along with Axurel of FFnet/dA. Also, here's a secret WIP that's only for my faithful readers (srsly, not posted anywhere else) 8D enjoy!** i104. photobucket. com/albums/m169/SilverAndrogyny/WIPs/wip-2. png**


	9. Day One

_A huge THANK YOUUUU to Scision for beta-ing this chapter._

_ilu, bb._

--

**8 - Day One**

--

Yuffie staggers drunkenly out of the gummi ship, clutching the handle of her suitcase with a miserable groan. "Leeeeeawn," she whines, as she drags herself towards town behind the two older men. "I'm gunna puke."

_Again?_ Cloud winces and fixes his eyes ahead as Yuffie makes an exaggerated retching noise behind him, not wanting to witness it if she's really going to be sick.

"Ughh." The girl clutches a hand over her stomach and doubles over with a melodramatic wail, "Leeeeee--"

Leon cuts her off by wordlessly wrenching the suitcase from her grip and slinging it over his shoulder before continuing on, a step behind Cloud as the younger man leads the way to the inn.

Behind them, Yuffie straightens up instantly with a triumphant grin. "Hehee! Got you to carry my stuff!" she taunts as she scampers after them, spinning in cheerful circles as she follows.

"...Whatever."

"Heh. Look Cloud, look! Squall--" ("_Leon_.") "--is carrying my stuff! Stuff, stuff..."

Cloud's step falters slightly in his annoyance and he casts a look between the two of them. He opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and mutters, "Never mind," earning him a laugh from the young kunoichi. The last thing he wants to do is encourage her; then he'll have Yuffie singing the obvious and Leon glaring at him.

Flicking his eyes back at the older man, he wonders faintly when glaring ceased to be the default.

"Guys, it's getting dark!" Yuffie calls back (case in point) as she prances ahead of them. "Come on! Last one to the inn gets the roll out bed!" With that she breaks out in a full run, quickly vanishing out of their line of vision as she ducks behind a building.

Leon cocks an eyebrow and glances over to see the blond mirroring his expression. There's a brief light in his eyes that might be amusement before he clears his throat and turns his gaze back to the road beneath him. They walk in silence, and it's not long before the inn comes into view. It looks like a cross between a Greek temple and a medieval cathedral, all arches and pillars and towering majesty.

The marketplace is closed up behind them as they cross the abandoned forum and the building draws nearer, light draining from the clouds overhead as dusk finally settles over the town. They cross the threshold of tall pillars and push open the double doors that are set in the heavy walls beyond.

Checking in, they take a creaky lift up a dozen floors to the one complimentary room for their party, and, upon opening the door and flicking on the lights, they're both a little surprised to find it empty.

"...Where's Yuffie?" Cloud questions finally, casually, after they've discreetly checked the closet, bathroom, and under the beds, all whilst managing to look respectably apathetic as to the missing kunoichi's whereabouts.

"No idea," Leon replies, eying the ceiling panels warily for a long moment before he sets his duffle bag on the far bed to claim it. Cloud sets his own things on the near bed in a similar gesture, Buster leaned against the wall next to Lionheart as a cape and a jacket are shrugged off in unison.

The brief calm is shattered as Yuffie comes barreling through the door, panting for air and babbling a mile a minute about how she _totally would've beaten them here_ and how something was _so unfair, dammit_.

"What?"

"I... got lost," she summarizes lamely, pouting. "Butit's_so_unfair. Iwas_way_aheadofyouguysand--"

Leon unfolds the cot between the two beds, clearly doing his best to shut out the sound of her voice. "Yuffie," he says finally, voice controlled as he grabs a pillow haphazardly off of his bed and tosses it on hers. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"On that?" She points an accusing finger at the cot. "Like hell I'm sleeping on that."

" 'Last one to the inn gets the roll-out bed,' " Cloud quotes, with a light smirk.

"Fine. _Fine_, Cloudy. Only because I'm a man of my word." She glares, before correcting hurriedly, "Woman. Girl. Female. Thing. Of my word!" With a huff, she snatches a bag of toiletries out of her suitcase, whirls around, and disappears into the bathroom.

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh, and Cloud finds himself mimicking the gesture in silent concurrence.

--

Cloud's eyes snap open in the darkness, and he's aware that he hasn't slept for long. He doesn't sleep well in the first place, but... with other people in the room? It's a miracle he managed at all.

The churn of unease in his gut tells him he'll end up lying awake all night if he stays here. A glance to his side reveals that Yuffie is out cold, sprawled across her cot and uncharacteristically still--an improvement, he thinks wryly--and Leon is nowhere to be seen.

He hauls himself out of bed and pulls his clothes on, sword equipped as he trudges out of the room. Checking his pockets to make sure the keycard is on hand, he pulls the door shut and starts down the hall. He takes a right, makes his way to the fire escape at the far end of the building, and follows it up past all of the above floors and finally to the roof of the inn.

Chilled night air fills his lungs, a refreshing contrast to the stuffy room. He paces across the roof, balance carefully maintained as he surveys his surroundings. The dark realm has taught him to seek high ground at night, and it's not a habit he's keen on shaking. Not when it lets him feel safe up here, in the dark and 20 stories off of the ground--safer than he'll ever feel during the day.

This is his element, as betrayed by the glow of his iridescent eyes. His heightened senses put him at the perfect advantage here, where others might fumble or be hindered by the darkness. And his wing obliterates the danger of heights, a very real risk to anyone who dares oppose him up here.

His eyes widen minutely, veins constricting to draw blood and color away from his skin as he spins around, sword drawn reflexively. There's a clang of metal as blades meet and he leaps backwards, weapon raised defensively as he stands ready.

Tense muscles and snarling lips relax when he registers the metallic glint of a gunblade against a familiar figure, and he lowers his weapon slowly. "Leon."

"...Hey," the older man says casually, his own stance slacking. His gaze scans the buildings below--which are only dark blurs to his eyes, void of mako as they are--before he turns back with an almost apologetic shrug. "I didn't hear you come up."

Cloud watches as the malice drains quickly out of the brunet's expression, and realizes that he's actually caught him off guard. "I didn't think you'd be up here," he admits.

"Hn."

It's silent for several long moments before an awkward but fitting suggestion is finally issued. "Spar?"

They don't want to just stand here and stare at each other all night, and it's not like they have anything to _talk_ about, but neither man is willing to give up his newfound territory, and they both have swords in hand and it's really what comes naturally...

"Here?" Aquamarine eyes flick towards the city below in gesture.

A nod.

"Fine." _Your funeral._

They soar forward to meet each other, blades connecting in the darkness. Despite all the careful footwork involved and the dangerous scuff of boots slipping against tile as they learn to gauge their new environment, it's so much easier for them to interact this way.

The first few minutes are tentative as they adjust to their new arena, never moving too far from the other as they try to figure out where they stand. They push a little further with each attack, each successful parry a consensus to take things further. Albeit slow at first, inertia picks up and pulls them far, far past where they started, and it's not long before they've given up their caution completely.

They might as well be flying, for how airborne the battle becomes. They return to the roof, but only to appease gravity, dropping low to absorb the impact before they leap up again. Grunts and growls and brief yells, even, harmonize with the metallic sound of their swords.

It's not long before they're panting and sweating despite the chill of the night air, not long at all before the blows become too quick for the untrained eye to follow. It's a whirlwind of metal and sparks as the battle unfurls across the rooftop, their forms two fluid blurs that mesh and part against the night sky.

More than once, Cloud loses his footing as they crash back onto the roof together, staggering before Leon drives him mercilessly back into the air. And as many times, Leon takes a tumble down the sloped roof, catching himself before he reaches the edge and hurling himself straight back at the blond swordsman.

This time is no different, equilibrium slipping past his fingertips as he is knocked out of the air. But this time, Cloud catches him before he has a chance to dive for the safety of center stage, the wide arc of the younger man's bandaged sword throwing him to the very edge of the roof. There's a split second of instinctive terror spilling into his veins, the halting of time as he realizes he can't recover his balance and he's about to fall to his death and he doesn't want to die yet--

A metal claw clamps around his forearm, inadvertently drawing blood as it jerks him back to safety. He's shoved back forcefully and lands flat on his back, the air crushed out of him as a knee plows into his chest to hold him down. Cloud is perched above him in a solid knee mount, one leg restricting his movement and breathing, while the other is extended for balance.

And his own gunblade has been turned against him. He can feel the flat of it against his jaw, the tip of it pressed ever so lightly to his throat--a hair's breadth closer and skin would break. It's a precision, a stead of hand, that he's not sure he himself possesses. It's a pressure--if the whisper of metal against his skin can be called that--that he'd never trust his closest allies to maintain.

And yet, despite the tension tangible between them, he's not particularly afraid for his wellbeing. Whatever doubts he may have about Cloud as a person, they don't carry over to Cloud as a swordsman. It's not that he trusts the younger man; it's that he trusts his ability--ability is something he understands, unlike people, who can be misread, misjudged, mistaken.

That's why it doesn't bother him that his opponent has a blade held to his throat. Or maybe, as he chooses to tell himself, the lack of oxygen is inebriating him.

"You give?"

Leon growls low in his throat, a sound of unwilling submission as his eyes dart up to the younger man's face. Adjusted though his vision is to the dark, the only things he can see clearly are Cloud's glowing eyes, and fuck, but they're so...

So different, he decides, from anything he's ever seen before. He can see everything reflected in them--the light of adrenaline and excitement, an extra luster of victory and pride, the shimmer underneath of his enthusiasm for sword fighting. He can even see the shroud of darkness beneath, the shadows in the depths of his eyes a tantalizing glimpse of stories he can't quite decipher.

And _fuck_, but it's magnetic. Regardless of the fact that they don't particularly like each other in the day-to-day, it'll be a cold day in hell before he lets go of his new sparring partner.

Leon raises a hand to his abused chest as Cloud consents to let him go. He can feel the punctures in his arm from Cloud's gauntlet, warm blood escaping wounds to slither in lethargic rivulets along his skin. As he gets to his feet, his pulse seems to have quieted and he finds himself feeling a little disoriented.

It's funny, how quickly the change occurs. In the blink of an eye, the swordsman who can read his every move, who fights with him like they were _made_ for it, becomes a mere acquaintance who can't even begin to anticipate the first of his thoughts. It's funny, how the swordsman who undeniably exhilarates him becomes a man he's sure has nothing to offer him.

They return to the room in silence, careful not to wake Yuffie. There's an unspoken consensus that Cloud gets the shower first, if only because he won tonight. It's only a few minutes before the blond emerges from the bathroom and slips wordlessly into bed--ignoring him entirely--and Leon doesn't spare him so much as a glance as he goes to clean up.

Nonetheless, the verdict is unanimous. They're going to have to spar again. Soon.

--

**A/N: **Sorry it took me forever to update! I've been busy with school (and work before that) DX I uploaded three oneshots in my absense from Cathexis, though!

_**"Fall in Silence"**__ and __**"Technical Definition"**__ can be found on my FFnet. __**"Me"**__ can be found on my writing dA (PILOTfish. deviantart. com) along with the other two._

How's school been treating you guys? o3o;

_Reviews are rad, as always._


	10. Day Two

_Credit again to Scision, whose beta services I acquired. I BROUGHT MY POOL FLOATIES THIS TIME, SIR._

--

**9 - Day Two**

--

"Leon, he'd turn you SO GAY you wouldn't be able to walk in a straight line."

"I'm sure."

"I'm serious!" Yuffie insists hotly, giving the older man a shove, playful by their standards, that would send anyone else sprawling. "Have you _seen_ those muscles?"

Leon raises one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. "Do I look like I swoon over rock-hard abs?"

Cloud, returning from his mission to locate and defeat the ice machine on their floor in a battle of wills, cocks an eyebrow as he closes the door behind him. "No?" he offers, dryly, setting the bucket of ice cubesdown on the table by the door. He ignores Yuffie as she glomps him and clings, babbling about how much she's missed him, despite the fact that he hasn't been gone for all of five minutes.

She takes it upon herself to fill him in on everything that's happened in his absence.

"SO. I was telling Leon. The reason I got here _last_ last night was because I ran into Hercules--the guy on the soda cans?" She gestures wildly, in what could only possibly indicate a soda can if it had been hurled across the room by a particularly angry heartless. "And he like, thought I needed rescuing or something. So I was like, 'uhm, yeah, I'm the GREAT NINJA YUFFIE, bitch.' "

She pries herself off of Cloud, strikes a pose, before melting once again into a puddle of fangirl. "But he's _nothing_ like the soda cans in person... but anyway, I was just saying he'd turn Squally here--" she gives the brunet another shove "--queer in a heartbeat!"

Cloud feels the eyebrow go back up. Leon, queer? Mr. I-am-so-stoic-except-when-I'm-not? The judgmental jerkwad with an emotional capacity to be rivaled by the ice cubes in the bucket? Would it make the slightest difference to _anyone_ if he "turned queer" one day?

"I'm sure."

Leon offers a grunt of agreement and stands, wordlessly dismissing himself.

"Where are you going!?" Yuffie flails after the brunet, who pauses, one hand on the doorknob, to reply shortly:

"Out."

--

They're halfway across the forum when Cloud realizes that they are, in the most literal sense possible, together. They're not sparring, but neither of them has made an effort to make himself scarce yet, and there is clearly something very wrong with that.

And yet, he finds himself not really minding that Leon is just sort of _there_. It must be a side effect of sharing a hotel room with Yuffie, he decides, as he casts a sideways glance at the older man. He's mostly been ignoring Leon, and Leon's mostly been ignoring him, and they've both been trying really, really hard to ignore Yuffie. It's given him an unusually high, albeit temporary, tolerance for other people.

If they don't part ways soon, though, this is going to be the closest they've come to (heaven forbid) the phenomenon known as male bonding. Cloud scoffs at the thought, and doesn't miss the look of ill-concealed amusement that Leon gives him. Like the brunet knows exactly what he's thinking.

He's pretty sure that doesn't constitute bonding yet, but better safe than sorry, Cloud dismisses himself to turn down the nearest street.

"You heading into town?" Leon queries.

Cloud spares him a glance, albeit a quick one, as he replies shortly, "Yeah."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Leon continues down the street they've been following as the younger man heads off towards the marketplace. He'd been planning on going that way, incidentally, but... it can wait, if that's where Cloud is going to be. They've been seeing enough of each other as it is.

Of course, if he's not going to be in a highly trafficked area, he'd really like to be armed. Heartless are more active at night, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea to be wandering around alone without his gunblade.

The lack of Lionheart's weight in his hand is unsettling, and he shoves his ungloved hands into his pockets to distract himself from it as he trudges onward.

It's never a good idea to be out unarmed.

* * *

_--_

_"No," he says firmly, shouldering Revolver decisively. "You stay here."_

_"Why should I stay in here while you're out there fighting?"_

_"You don't have a weapon," he protests bluntly, knowing he has lost as a familiar smirk spreads over the older boy's features._

_"I __**am**__ a weapon," Zell murmurs, leaning in to capture the brunet's lips conclusively. He doesn't want to be left behind, and he's not going to take no for an answer. Content that he's silenced any protest, he pulls back with a grin, and when he does, the glint in his eyes is dangerous but alluring all the same. "Let's go, babe."_

--

* * *

Leon halts abruptly, muscles tensing as he feels the familiar sensation of scan magic rushing over his body. Instinctively reaching for his gunblade, cursing himself when it's not there, he listens, heightened audition picking up the nonchalant scuff of dirt underfoot. He turns as the intruder steps onto the deserted street, his scrutinizing gaze met by a stranger with a bright red ponytail and something that looks like a telescoping nightstick.

"Yo," the stranger says, giving his weapon a casual swing.

The subtle shift of weight between his feet betrays the gesture as anything but superfluous, and the tip-off gives Leon just enough time to react. He leaps aside as the redhead darts forward, swinging the metallic rod at him. Twisting around, he faces his assailant and fixes his eyes on him, all of his attention narrowing down into a pinprick on his target, a level of observation so intense that his opponent is stunned for a moment.

The stranger pulls the rod back with a satisfied grin, slinging it over his shoulder. "How's this?" he proposes, managing to sound unconcerned despite the fact that the gunblader is backing him down the street without so much as lifting a hand. "Whoever lives gets to fight in the tournament."

Leon's placid expression doesn't change, and the stranger gives a bark of laughter and continues to retreat.

"I see how it is; you don't think I can beat you." The redhead's look of mock hurtis replied by a wide smirk, his words revealing that he has, indeed, checked the other man's stats. "Do you, Squall Leonhart?"

"It's Leon."

The man chooses to ignore this. "Tough guy, arentcha? Too tough for me, I bet, huh?" He questions, the grin on his face growing as he speaks. "That's okay; that just means I'll be fighting you tomorrow, instead of your friend."

The stranger raises his retractable weapon innocently, with a goofy smile like he's going to tap Leon harmlessly on the shoulder. But when the brunet snatches the rod in midair, that smile turns downright evil, one slender finger pressing down on a concealed button on the handle.

Leon jerks back in surprise, electricity jolting him and causing an unpleasant vibration along his arm. His heart stumbles in his chest, its pace uncharacteristically frantic as the sharp pain drains out of his ungloved hand and it begins to throb angrily. He realizes, vaguely, that the redhead has taken the moment to escape, but doesn't think too much of it, more concerned with the stripe of burned flesh across his palm than a prankster.

As he nurses his injured hand with a low level ice spell, however, he mulls over said prankster's motivation for "attacking" him--however pitiable an attempt it had been--and begins to feel a nagging in his gut. The stranger wants someone out of the way so he can get in on the Hades Cup, and that could mean...

_Yuffie! _She's in the inn, he tells himself evenly, probably talking to Aerith on her PHS. She'll be fine. She's safe. Then...

_Cloud._

--

Cloud spins around with an irritated sigh, raking a hand through his messy spikes. "You can come out now."

"Me?" an innocent voice questions, as a redhead with goggles peers out from a narrow alley.

"No, the other guy who's been following me for 20 minutes," the blond says sardonically, drawing his sword in a swift motion. "What do you want?"

"Look, it's nothing personal, I just--" the stranger stops dead in his tracks as he wanders out onto the street, waving his retractable weapon in a vague gesture as he gapes at the younger man's sword. "Whoa."

_Big, isn't it?_ Cloud almost smirks, but the expression dies at the redhead's next words.

"Shit, _Buster_?"

The blond's eyes narrow, his grip squaring on the sword's hilt as he hoists it out of the way so he can get a good look at the stranger. His old memories are foggy but he's sure he doesn't know this man. Hell, the man doesn't seem to know him, either; he just recognizes the sword.

That's weird, he thinks, as the redhead lunges at him and he fights back violently, cape flying behind him as he drives the other man rapidly towards surrender. Weird, in a way that sends a long-forgotten thread of reminiscence into his blood, tainting his motions with old uncertainties.

His blows become a little distracted, a little more careless as he fights his attacker off. It's nothing like sparring, which involves two parties. This is just him--all him. Him and the nagging uncertainty that tries to distract him as he swings at an opponent that becomes nothing more than a moving target in his mind. The next blow lands hard, the flat of his blade sending the redhead sprawling across the street with a pained grunt.

"Ow," the man mutters as he gets to his feet, clutching a hand to his side. "Not bad, kid." When Cloud takes another attack stance, he holds up his hands to signal his surrender, EMR retracting as it falls to the ground with a clatter. "That sword's original owner... you're doing him justice."

Snatching his weapon off of the ground, the redhead shoots him a cocky grin before taking off in the other direction. Cloud stares after him for a moment, wiping the completely bewildered look off of his face as he returns the sword to his back. "You can come out now."

His addressee drops down soundlessly from a low roof, and Cloud faces him warily. "And what do you want?"

Leon crosses his arms over his chest, eyes averted impersonally. "That guy attacked me earlier. Thought he might be trouble."

Cloud scoffs. "No. Just stupid."

"Hn."

As they start back towards the inn, the younger man says bitterly, "I can take care of myself. I'm not like your friends."

Leon says nothing, Cloud consents to return the favor, and they return to the inn in silence, keeping a respectable distance between them as they walk. Retreating to the confines of his own mind, the blond swordsman finds himself repeatedly drawn back to the redhead's words. They snag him, wind their way around him, work their way into the deep recesses of his brain and he can't help but _think_.

_That sword's original owner... you're doing him justice_.

He would shrug it off, would tell himself the redhead was only trying to mess with him, but it hits too close to home to be entirely arbitrary.

That guy, somehow, for some reason, once upon a time, knew Zack.

* * *

--  
_  
"You're insane," he whispers. He whispers, because he's terrified, because he doesn't trust his voice not to break, not to falter, if he speaks any louder than this. He whispers, because the oppressing silence of the dead engine against the rustle of heartless outside is too commanding, and he can't bring himself to break it._

_"You're insane," he says, those words ringing in his ears for hours to come as he lies huddled against the back seat with a crowbar clenched between white-knuckled hands, his only source of comfort, meager though it is, as he stares out into the slate of darkness, unseeing and unfeeling._

_"You're insane." _

_Those are the words he chooses. Not __**be careful**__, not __**I love you**__, not anything else he could've said. They are empty words, although he doesn't realize it until many hours later. He doesn't realize until it's too late, doesn't realize until he's staring forward, eyes tearless but all the more devastated for the lack of moisture. There's nothing to them._

_"You're insane," he says. And then, more to reassure himself than his companion: "You'll be back, right?"_

_Zack doesn't say "yes." He never lies if he can help it._

--

* * *

**A/N: **o helo thar, zack.

That flashback is a scene that's been in my mind since I first started writing this fic. I couldn't convey it quite the way I wanted to, but I hope it .. worked for you guys? (8

Also lolreno.

**edit-** also my usual way of marking off flashbacks is NOTWORKING (-hits ffnet-) so. idk. you get regular borders.


	11. Day Three

_!!Warning_:_ more annoying!Yuffie ahead. I've become completely enamoured with her of late. She's almost done being EVERYWHARRR, though. Srsly.  
_

_--  
_

**10 -**** Day Three (aka Day of the Three-Hit Kill), Part One**

**--  
**

Yuffie has no qualms with being half naked in a room occupied by older men.

Cloud, admittedly, freezes when he returns to the room after going down to breakfast, to find her clad only in a bra (covered in rainbow shurikens) and a pair of matching panties. The seizure-inducing colors snare his attention and practically glue his eyes to her chest, but the younger girl is seemingly oblivious to this.

"Hey, Cloudy!" She greets with a wave, as the blond man becomes suddenly occupied with his fingernails. If she notices that her undergarments are the focal point of the room, she does nothing to acknowledge it. "Howzit goin'?" she questions, as she turns back to rummage through her bag, tossing clothes over her shoulder and strewing them around her bed as she looks for an outfit that matches her current whims.

"...Fine," Cloud replies, half-audibly, unsure whether she's listening or not. He's a little surprised that Leon—when he gets out of the shower, fully clothed—doesn't tell her to put some clothes on, doesn't so much as spare her a reprimanding glance. But then, the brunet has proved accustomed to all of Yuffie's quirks thus far. It's about this time, as Leon says nothing while Yuffie prances around merrily and quite indecent, and he realizes that this is _normal_ by their standards, that he also realizes the bandages. Leon's right hand—more importantly, his sword hand—is wrapped with clean white gauze, and Cloud cocks an eyebrow in inquiry when he sees it.

When Leon refuses to acknowledge the gesture, he asks grudgingly, "What happened?"

The brunet's gaze slips from his own, following the direction of his nod to his injured hand, and he averts his eyes with an irritated sigh. "I got burned," he admits, lowly.

"Hn." Cloud tries to will the older man to meet his eyes—to read his unspoken question of _so?_, of _what now?_, of _can you still fight?_ But that moment of attempted connection is broken—or perhaps facilitated—by Yuffie as she intervenes.

"Apparently he ran into this guy yesterday," she pipes up, crossing the room, still indecent and still oblivious. "He swung at Squally, so he grabbed his nightstick--" (she pauses for a moment to snicker, "heh, _nightstick_.") "--but then it had this, I dunno, electricity thing going on and shocked him and burned his hand. Like, bad." She gestures at the bandaged appendage. "I saw it earlier, it was _nasty_. All blistery and leaking everywhere and turning unnatural colors."

Cloud is a little disturbed by the fact that she's grinning from ear to ear as she recounts this.

"But yeah. Apparently it hurts like a mother," Yuffie concludes. "So he's not allowed to touch his gunblade--" (she giggles) "--until it's all better!"

Cloud looks on as Yuffie beings to harass Leon with crack after crack about keeping his hands away from his "gunblade." Donning an expression of exasperation that's not unlike the brunet's, he slowly comes to the realization that he's been neglected. Leon has an injury that could jeopardize their rank, and the older man hasn't even bothered to mention it to him. He's Leon's partner in the tournament today, and Yuffie—_Yuffie_, the little girl in the rainbow shuriken bra—has heard about this vital factoid before him. And judging by her dialogue, and the fact that she wasn't actually present, Leon has actually _explained_ the situation to her. Too bad Cloud can't see the brunet sitting down and having a real conversation with anyone. The thought of Leon monologuing about his encounter strikes him as incredibly uncharacteristic, and he smirks a little in amusement.

And yet, he can't help but wonder how that would have gone.

Take one: _"Yuffie, sit down and shut up_," Leon says, as she opens her mouth to badger him mercilessly about his bandaged hand. Before she can even ask, he begins, _"This guy attacked me..."_

Yeah, right.

Take two: _"Squaaaaaaaall,"_ Yuffie says, clasping the gunblader's festering hand and earning a deep wince from him. "_What happened!? Ohmigod you HAVE to tell me!"_ And she continues to pester him until he finally, at length, blinks the entire story to her in morse code, thus preserving his taciturn nature.

More plausible than the monologue, but not by much.

Take three...

Cloud is still contemplating this several minutes later as they head to the Coliseum for preliminaries. He had discovered Yuffie's unfortunate inability to _shut _up very early on, but this is more than anything he's witnessed thus far. As their party walks down the street together, he finds himself conditioned to mentally wince in advance every time they cross paths with anything that's even remotely male.

"Squall," Yuffie whispers loudly, as a young man in butt-hugging pants passes them, walking in the other direction. "Check out that assssss." She peers around the older man's person to gesture at said ass as Leon ignores her pointedly. "Squall, ass!" She points more violently this time.

"No thanks," Leon says finally, dismissively.

"Really, it's a phenomenal ass," Yuffie insists with a pout, before a man in a toga catches her attention and she wraps herself around Leon's arm again. "What about him? Don't you think he's hot?"

"No."

"Squall, you're not looking. Put on your queer goggles and tell me you wouldn't tap _that,_" she jabs a finger at the man in the toga, who casts her a meek glance and gives them a wide berth as he passes.

"..." Before he can even dismiss her with a _whatever_, Yuffie is already gushing over another man's bared abs, and then another's unnaturally spiky hair. If Leon was willing to be honest, he might've admitted that as a general rule, he finds gravity-defying hair to be aesthetically pleasing, but he isn't feeling particularly honest. Despite his failure to humor her, however, the young kunoichi doesn't give up.

She doesn't give up, and for fifteen whole minutes Cloud is forced to endure the full brunt of being an innocent spectator of her patented annoyingness. For fifteen whole minutes, he watches Leon's eyebrow develop a twitch before the brunet shuts his eyes briefly, exhales sharply, and lets it go before Yuffie says something particularly aggravating and the cycle repeats itself.

They walk the last stretch to the Coliseum in silence, and Cloud is breathing a silent sigh of relief over his survival, when Yuffie _has_ to open her mouth again. Just before they part ways to go to their separate locker rooms—men on the right, women on the left—she looks him up and down and grins a wicked grin.

"You know, Squally, Cloud isn't bad looking, either."

"...It's Leon," Leon says with finality, turning on his heel. The men head for their locker room as Yuffie scampers off with a delighted laugh, a vaguely awkward silence sustaining itself between them. It's awkward in that neither of them find it particularly awkward, but there's an awkwardness about it nonetheless that convinces them both that the other must find it awkward.

As he steps through the door, Cloud clears his throat and offers, "I didn't think Yuffie was so... boy crazy."

The brunet makes a noise that's both exasperated and amused. "She's _not_."

At this, the younger man furrows his eyebrows in confusion and gestures back in the direction they came from. "Then what was that all about?"

"She just does it to piss me off," Leon replies vaguely, casually neglecting the specifics of the girl's ongoing gag.

"So she's not really... like that?" Cloud asks, not sure if he's relieved or even more annoyed now that he knows it was _supposed_ to be annoying. He tosses a bag containing a change of clothes into his assigned locker.

"Hyne, no," Leon says, in a tone that's half amused, half terribly sick of her antics. "She likes girls."

"She... what?"

He's pretty sure he heard right the first time, but the brunet doesn't repeat himself so Cloud finds himself wondering anyway. A little puzzled, a little amused, and a little enlightened, he starts towards the arena with Buster in hand.

--

"Ready?" Phil calls across the stadium. "Get set... go!"

There's an earth-shattering roar, the ground literally shaking under the impact of enormous paws as Cerberus bounds out to meet them, three pairs of raging eyes fixing on them immediately. Three frothing mouths lunge for them, powerful jaws snapping against empty air as the swordsmen dart out of the way.

Cloud leaps back, drawing Charon's guard dog in blind pursuit. Two heads crash down in a vain attempt to capture him, and Leon hauls himself up one of the necks, fisting the thick, dark fur with his good hand as the rampaging hellhound tries to toss him off. He lets go, timing preceisely calculated, and falls through the air for a brief moment before steadying himself between the dog's shoulder blades.

On the ground, the younger man dodges a swiping paw and frees his wing from the cape. He leaps into the air, flapping hard to propel himself higher, and drops down near the brunet. He's barely gotten his footing when Cerberus rears up as a high-level ice spell explodes across the back of its heads.

The other man is ahead of him, providing cover fire before he's even gone in for the kill. Gritting his teeth, only half light-heartedly, he accepts that challenge and darts past Leon—half running, half climbing—as the other man continues to cast spells behind him. A couple weeks ago, this would have been nothing short of absurd, turning his back on _Leon_ while he's wielding powerful magic that is more than capable of knocking him to the ground and leaving him to be devoured. But if their sparring sessions proved one thing, it's that the gunblader knows how to fight. And while it's certainly not trust, it's acknowledgement, and that's enough for them to work with now. He's _aware_ of the other man's skill, and, with all the faith he has to invest in Leon (of all people), he knows that the spells will miss him.

Not trust—never trust—but a wager he's willing to take.

One hand still gripping the fur of the massive dog's neck, Cloud lifts the sword from his back as spells continue to pelt past him. When he's sure he has his balance, he secures his grip on the hilt and slams the sword down, the flat of his blade colliding with Cerberus' skull and knocking the first head unconscious.

The middle head snaps around to face him with a snarl and their eyes lock for a moment. Cloud dives into the air and it cranes one thick neck to snap at him, teeth glistening beneath. Hot, fetid breath permeates his senses and he nearly gags. His wing unfurls against the vile air, slowing his descent just enough. A fire spell knocks the second head down—a moment later and the beast would've had his feet—and he lands expertly at the base of its skull. With a glance of acknowledgement in Leon's general direction, he returns the sword to his back.

With two identical growls, the dog tosses its still-conscious heads and charges across the stadium in attempt to throw the men off of it. When the middle head jerks back again, Cloud lets himself go, falling back to the junction of its necks. He dodge-rolls to absorb the impact and halts as he rights himself, crouched on its spine, but even his lowered center of gravity isn't enough to anchor him when the dog deliberately shakes its shoulders beneath them. The force of it almost knocks him off his feet, and he staggers, but the spells cease and a gloved hand finds his arm and holds him steady.

He catches the other man's battle-hardened gaze, lowers his eyes in the slightest admission of gratitude, before he darts for the second head. Ice spells continue to fly past him as he repeats their simple strategy until all three heads have been felled and Cerberus crashes to the ground, unconscious and defeated. Wing beating to keep him afloat, he hovers above their fallen opponent before lowering himself slowly beside it. Leon is still crouched from landing an almost reckless jump from the collapsing monster, and he trudges over to him, offering a hand and hauling the brunet up. It's funny that he wouldn't even consider something so superfluous as helping Leon—his room mate—up, but he does it without a thought for Leon—his party member, Leon—his sparring partner.

"Too easy," the brunet concludes, and Cloud has to nod in agreement, as their grips slacken and gloved hands slip past each other. Leon's spells _had_ done a lot of damage, but that doesn't change the fact that he three-shotted the damn thing. Way too easy.

But the next fight won't be, he knows, as their blue-skinned opponent steps into the arena. He's aware that Hercules is hauling Cerberus off in the background, but his mako eyes are fixed unwaveringly on the man before him, his sword already drawn.

"Well, well, well."

"Hades."

"If it isn't my favourite little mercenary," the god says, raising a hand in a mockingly cheerful wave. "Still in love with your moral highground, there?" A questionably sane laugh echoes across the empty stands. "Let me know when you're serious enough about that whole _darkness_ spiel to make, you know, a _real_ deal with the devil. One where you actually kill the people you're supposed to kill, and things. Because... don't get me wrong, you're a _great guy, _but it's really just not fair when I'm doing all the work. You know?"

Leon cocks an eyebrow in silent question, and Cloud casts him a sideways look. _Later_, he promises, in the grit of his teeth as he lunges.

_Of course_, the brunet says, in the slightest roll of his eyes before he follows.

--

"I can't believe I lost to a guy in a toga," Leon mutters, mostly to himself, as he stands just inside the locker room, holding the door open as he leans against it.

"You're injured," Cloud supplies, quietly but abruptly, as he passes. _And he does happen to be the god of the underworld._

Leon follows the other reluctantly between two rows of lockers, spinning his designated combination lock and pulling the creaky metal door open. Slumping on the rickety bench behind him, he pulls off his boots and shoves them in his locker as Cloud's cape lands with a thump next to him. He glances over his shoulder to see Cloud peeling his shirt off, the blond's sculpted muscles tightening as they expose themselves inch by inch as the younger man pulls the garment over his head and tosses it into his own locker. The wing flexes behind him, dangerously powerful, and the brunet finds himself a little stricken by it.

It's so wild, so thoroughly inhuman, and he can't help but wonder how Cloud got it. Surely, he wasn't _born_ with that?

When Cloud turns and plants a foot on the bench, he catches the brunet's wandering gaze. His eyes travel between the gunblader's and the demonic wing stretching out from his back before he averts them bitterly, staring at his hands as he unlaces his boots and pulls them off. He remembers the way Leon's originally calm gaze hardened on him when he first saw the wing, when he'd been in the infirmary—remembers the moment he equated Leon to everyone who'd judged him by the cursed appendage. But Leon _isn't_ like everyone else, he knows, as he watches the brunet shrug off his jacket out of the corner of his eye.

The boots are shoved into his locker, socks draped over them as his mind mulls over their sparring sessions. It had been so easy to assume that Leon was like everyone else, under the stoic facade that he hadn't even been allowed to see at first. Even the facade had been hidden under a facade, at first. The thing was, he'd probably still be able to believe that there was nothing more to Leon if they hadn't sparred. But... gods, what was wrong with him? Ever since they crossed blades for the first time—ever since he first saw _that_ Leon—he's been able to see something else. There's so much under the surface, not the frustrated impudence he'd seen on a couple occasions, but something he can't identify—something he wants to identify. Something so so deeply rooted that he can't help but want to hunt it down and expose it for what it is.

It is true that sparring has triggered a truce—unwilling though it was at first, neither of them keen on admitting that they weren't what they were trying to be perceived as—and everything outside their matches seems a little surreal. The Leon he sees when they fight is not a man who loses his composure, _ever_; he is not a man who resorts to confrontation in dark alleyways or name-calling, not a man who can be provoked.

And yet, he's just as sure that the stoic facade is just as much a lie as those incidences were. Leon's full of contradictions, he thinks. So full of them, in fact, that he has a hard time believing that there's a _real_ Leon underneath it all.

_Why does that ring a bell?_ He asks himself sarcastically. As he trudges over to the showers, towel slung around his neck, he folds his wing tightly, subconsciously, behind him.

--

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so I'm brilliant and forgot to submit this one. This has been festering on my comp for … a month and a half? I totally thought this was up already! Sorrysorry.

To anyone who's interested: **I've started revamping/ re-uploading the Wasted Metaphor Arc**. As you may or may not recall, that was my first Cleon arc, originally posted around April 2007. It's in my profile if you wanna take a peek.


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